Crescent Moon, Full Moon
by Raven Dagaz With of Shadows
Summary: Oh little Moon, come and play, come and be.


Credits to JK Rowling for creating the Harry Potter series, as much as I find so many holes in logistics and all, it's still an amazing series – and to the band t.A.T.u for the last line of the first part (_Gomenasai, I never needed a friend…_) and how amazing all their songs are, even if I found it rather funny that a Russian band (not to mention with a lesbian image, though that doesn't really matter) writes a song with the title being _Gomenasai_, or _I'm sorry_ in Japanese, while singing the whole song in _English_ without any Russian _or_ Japanese. It's still an amazing song…but that still strikes me as funny.

I do know that Luna has grey eyes, but I felt they should be blue for this story – artistic license in fanfiction hasn't killed yet, and it isn't the perfectest thing, but – ah, well

* * *

_Things happen_

_It's like a mirage, and you remember (half-ly, half-hearted) of the Zin-Zins, who feed on your paths, which keep on switching (because you can't) and turning and crisscrossing (X, X, O) like your old games of tic-tack-toe that you had played (with your mother, and she's gone, ah, Selene Lovegood, she's gone) again and again, trying to find the final combination (there aren't enough)._

_Focus_

_You can't, and it's pretty, and it's enough seen, and you want to change, but if you don't have focus, you can't, and if you don't you'll never (a paradox), so in the end you should never (because you can't, and it's worth things)._

_Dreams_

Come along, little Moon, we're going to sing here – _do you want to find some Crumple-Horned Snorkacks? _– He's fine, come play, come sing, come _be_.

_It hurts_

It's fine, little Moon, it's alright. You're the daughter of the moon, you are the Moon, it's fine, my sweet darling. You don't need to hurt (_you never did_), you won't anymore.

_He's dead…dying_

Oh, little Moon. The little gardener (_you're thinking differently_) is fine. He's dancing (_even if he's not the one you are thinking of_), he's singing, he's _being_. You could come join him (_the one you aren't thinking of_). He's planting Angel's Allure and mistletoe and Devil's Snare and wolfbane and vervain, trying to find a cure for werewolves. That's him _(convincing_), little Moon, that's him (_telling_). They're all over there, all over there, you can (_you say_) come over as well, you should.

_That's fine_

You're thinking the wrong things (_follow, now_), little Moon, come up and play, darling, come up (_up to the real Moon_) and play.

_Can't learn_

You aren't to learn (_let's play, let's learn, everyone now, please learn this, read this_), sweetheart, you _know_. It's how you are, and you aren't playing.

_Can't see_

You've seen enough, sweetheart, now he's waiting for you (_the wrong person, they're both waiting now, both on different sides like they were on the same_) now, come up and play.

_Can't hear_

You don't need to hear (_you don't want me to_). There's venom enough already in the air, and you've no need to hear it all more. It's all in the same around here, come up and play.

_Can't feel_

It'd burn (_you're freezing_) you, darling, it'd burn. It'd burn (_you'd freeze_) and it'd hurt (_because you'd be alive_) and it'd hurt more. It'd hurt more than you are now (_all numb from me_), and you can't and you won't…will you (_oh, tell me, please – truth or dare, truth or not_) my (_mine, not much like_) dearest little Moon.

_They're here_

Everyone else is there, everyone. You can see everyone (_when they come over, right?_). After all, in the end, those here will be coming there. Come along darling, little Moon, you can play in the sunrise (_you want to dance in the rain_), you can find it all, everything.

_I want to see_

No, oh no, you don't, little Moon. You don't, and you won't and you shouldn't. You've seen too much (_too little_), you've seen too much (_far too little_) and you shouldn't have to, oh darling, you shouldn't, my darling.

_Feels numb_

You don't want to feel it (there's so much), little Moon, you don't. Come and play, my darling, come and play. Come and play, and come and _be_. Come and sing, come and be (_so much that you are not anymore_).

_Why?_

Because.

_We shout…_

(_Gomenasai, I never needed a friend…like I do now_)

* * *

There is a hospital bed, white sheets and crisp corners and pale skin and blonde hair.

Harry Potter visits every twenty-seven days, on the crescent moon. The Healers slowly notice the pattern. Every time he's here, he says two things (_one same, one different_) and sits, looking at the blonde hair. There never is any blue, and he never wears any such blue.

His wife doesn't understand it, but in the end, she knows (_deep down, inside_) and so she sees him off, every twenty-seventh day, with the little piece of knowledge that he's watching her.

It's a little quirk, his friends think, and that's it, as he goes there and makes sure there is no blue or bronze (_or silver_).

Luna Lovegood is colorless now, and he hates it. Eyes closed, and he has an odd feeling that if her eyes ever focused and she opened her eyes, the pale blue that were her irises would be washed out (_eroded and weathered away by the years and the calamity_), and even paler.

He can't look at the moon anymore, because even that looks washed out. It washed out the human of Remus Lupin, twisted Fenir Grayback even further, and is a destroyed reminder of Luna and Selene Lovegood.

He had researched the curse with all his resources and swears bloody the air, something he almost never did. The curse that struck Luna Lovegood was drawn from the madness of the moon, twisted and reversed across into a dark thing that _shouldn't_ have left her into a coma.

(_she should have gone mad, but she already was_)

Luna Lovegood stays on that hospital bed with the white sheets and crisp corners for three years, and for three years, every first crescent moon, Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, husband of Ginny Potter and son of Lily and James Potter, visited little Luna Lovegood, the One-Who-Stayed-The-Time.

The first half-moon of the third year, Luna Lovegood finally left. She didn't slip, like they wanted, she left. The first half-moon of the third year, Luna Lovegood, on a white hospital bed, with blonde hair and pale skin and a half-smile, left.

Seven years from that year (_the year that she smiled_), Lily Luna Potter is born, and the next generation has their Moon.

(_oh, little moon, come with me_)


End file.
